Instead of You(19)

I spent my days at the high school observing Mr. White and working on the final project I would turn in to my advisors to obtain my master's degree. I also worked on curriculum and lesson planning. I'd been in the same high school for the first two terms of the year, working closely with a teacher who taught me a lot and gave me a lot of support, and I'd had time to create lesson plans that fit in to his plans for the class. But once I took over Mr. White's class, I had to start over again from scratch, and fast.

I was there to teach, but I was also there to learn, so I observed Mr. White whenever I could, and hoped, as the term progressed, I could reach out to some other teachers in the building to ask if I could observe their classes as well.

That day, Mr. White was exceptionally distracted. He seemed scatterbrained and ill prepared for the day. I had learned early on it wasn't unusual for teachers to be running around at the last minute to prepare for class-they weren't allotted nearly enough time to do the jobs expected of them. So, when he asked me midway through third period to make copies of the test for the next class, I gladly agreed. I owed a lot to Mr. White, and I definitely wasn't above making copies.

I walked down the quiet hallway of the high school I thought I'd left far behind me. I hadn't had a terrible high school experience, but once I left town I realized there was so much more outside of my world I had yet to experience. That was part of the reason I liked studying history-in the grand scale of things, very little history had happened here. The real stories were all set somewhere far away, somewhere I'd never been, and I grabbed on to those stories hoping one day I'd care about something deeply enough to fight for it as so many had in the past. There'd always been that little voice in the back of my mind reminding me that Kenzie was that one thing, the one thing I'd go to war for, the only thing I'd fight to the death for.

I turned down another empty hallway; only the sound of my footsteps and the soft murmuring of voices behind doors could be heard. Until McKenzie turned down the same hallway.

She was at the far end, walking toward me. She was looking down, watching her feet, unaware of me for a moment, until her head tilted up and her eyes met mine. Her hair was down, bouncing gently with each step as she reached up and tucked some behind an ear. The shy smile that bloomed on her face was both adorable and sexy.         

     



 

I was suddenly jealous of every lucky bastard who got to see this image every day; all the eighteen-year-old punks who got to look at her and take their fill. She was stunning and she had no idea.

She walked toward me and it might as well have been in slow motion. The way her hips swayed, the way her eyes dipped as she tucked her hair behind her ear, the slow emersion of her teeth behind her smile-I could have watched it a million times.

The closer she got to me, the pinker her cheeks became. We didn't say anything to each other, couldn't risk it, but just as she passed me I reached out my finger to trail it across the back of her hand. I felt more in just that one run of my skin along hers than I had in any of the encounters I'd had with women in the last four years.

I'd never touched anyone the way I touched Kenzie. I touched her with delicate pressure, with intention, to try and give her some measure of how much I cared about her. There were no ulterior motives, no hopes that one touch would lead to many. Most of the time I felt as though if I never touched her again, I could live off the memory of my hands on her, of her lips on mine. That wouldn't stop me from reaching out to her though, from daring to touch her in an untouchable place, where everything I'd worked so hard for could be stripped away from me.

She didn't stop, she didn't say anything, and she didn't tense at my touch-she took it, claimed it, and continued down the hall. I knew in that moment, although it was probably already a foregone conclusion, that McKenzie Harris had taken a piece of me I'd never get back.



That evening when I arrived home I found my mom asleep on the couch. I was both glad she'd gotten out of bed, but a little worried that she was still sleeping.

"Mom," I said, gently shaking her shoulder. "Mom," I repeated softly. Finally, after a few nudges, she started to rouse.

"Hey, sweetie," she said just after opening her eyes.

"You're out of bed," I said as she sat up.

"I woke up and you were gone, so I decided to try and watch some TV. You know, to keep my mind occupied."

Well, it could have been worse. She could have wandered into Cory's room. I'd found her there a few times over the last month, sitting on his bed and staring off into space, or clutching his pillow and sobbing. She swore she could still smell him on it. I took her word for it.

"How are you feeling?" A shadow fell over her face.

"It's hard to be awake." Her voice was almost as frail as her body.

"I know, Mom," I whispered. "Can I make you something to eat?"

She gave me a smile that was just a shattered shell of what it used to be. "Sure, sweetie. That sounds good." She stood at the same time I did, just ten times slower, and started heading back toward her room. "I'm just going to take a shower first."

"Okay." I started gathering what I'd need to make her dinner, but when I heard the shower start and the unmistakable sounds of her under the water, I went in her room to change her sheets.





Chapter Thirteen

McKenzie

The morning I woke up in Hayes's arms was, well, perfect. I'd never felt as cherished as I did with him, never wondered whether my heart was going to beat right out of my chest, or if my cheeks were just going to melt away from the heat.

Being in his class got easier because after that morning I no longer worried about what we were doing or what we were to each other. I knew he wanted it just as much as I did, so it was easier to be around him. The ache to touch him was still there, and my eyes still roamed over his body like they owned him, but it wasn't the agony it had been at first.

I don't know if my friends noticed some difference in me and my demeanor, but they started treating me differently as well. They no longer coddled me or handled me with gloves. They joked around with me, teased me, hugged me without sadness, and that, too, was better. I was in the midst of beginning to remember Cory, instead of constantly being reminded that he was gone. Holly and Becca no longer avoided topics for fear of bringing him up and making me sad. Instead, we talked about him, we laughed over our memories, and even if just a little bit, the guilt eased.

I smiled when I opened my locker and saw his picture. I laughed when Todd retold the story of the time Cory took his clothes and tossed them downriver once when we'd all gone skinny dipping. Things were getting better, and I wanted to cling to that, to bring it with me all the time just to show everyone, to say "Look! I miss him, but I didn't end with him. We have to keep moving, in part, because he can't."

Along with all the joys of living again, there also came the fear of what would happen when it all came crashing down. Someday, if Hayes and I continued, everyone would find out about us, and they would all have an opinion about it. There were moments I couldn't care less what other people thought, but then I'd think of our parents, of Mrs. Wallace specifically, and I'd feel nauseous. I didn't want to have to explain to her how I'd been in love with Hayes for two years, but still stayed with Cory because I loved him too, just not in the same way.         

     



 

Thinking about it gave me headaches.

However, watching Hayes lightly tapping a pile of papers into a neat stack was more than enough to ease those fears. The bell hadn't rung yet and students were still trickling into the classroom. The desk next to me, Cory's old desk, had remained eerily empty. We didn't have assigned seats, people could sit wherever they wanted, but no one had taken the desk Cory had claimed as his own, right next to me. So, when a body slid into it I startled, my gaze pulled from Hayes and landing on Nathan Patterson.

"Hey, McKenzie," he said with an easy smile.

"Hi, Nate." I was a little confused. Nathan had never spoken to me before and he definitely hadn't ever sat next to me in class.

"We don't have school on Friday. District in-service, or something like that."

"Yeah, three-day weekend," I replied, still unsure as to why he was speaking to me.

"Well, Thursday night everyone is going over to Ryan Holstater's house. You've been there before, right?"

"Yeah." Ryan's house was the same place Cory and I had gone camping. Where the picture in my locker was taken.

"Well, I'm officially inviting you." He said the words as if I should have been grateful to him for the invitation.

"Oh," I stammered, unused to boys I didn't know inviting me to go places.

"Yeah, it's no big deal, just bring a tent, or, ya know, share one." He winked at me and I had to hold back a grimace.

"Can Holly, Becca, and Todd come too?"

He shrugged. "The more the merrier. Just make sure if you guys want to drink anything, you bring your own. BYOB."

"Mr. Patterson, I need you to go back to your seat. I'd like to start class." Hayes's voice was authoritative and stern. Nate just leaned back in his seat, getting comfortable.

"I'm good here, Mr. Wallace."

The room fell silent as a hush spread through, everyone waiting to see how Hayes handled his first insubordinate student. I watched as Hayes practically burned a hole through Nate with his gaze, the muscle in his jaw twitching. A few seconds felt like forever, but finally Hayes responded.